


No need of parenting books

by ElizabethisjustaKitten



Series: A Study in Affinity [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 4x02 remedy, Fluff, M/M, Parenting!Fic, Sherlock being a father, Soccer Moms of Regent's Park, baby stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethisjustaKitten/pseuds/ElizabethisjustaKitten
Summary: Sherlock gets mistaken for Rosie’s father for the first time.(Or the one where John moves back to Baker Street and everything seems right again.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> After the last episode I needed a little ficklet where Rosie is happy and safe (and/or just exists). It could be a prologue to [this one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9238874) I wrote after TST or just a sweet little thing to read without any needed context.
> 
> Edit: Thank you [ alexisriversong ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alexisriversong/pseuds/alexisriversong) for amazing beta of this

Every one would argue that 221B Baker Street never was and never could be a suitable environment for a child. That was a widely common opinion between multiple people. Mrs. Hudson had threatened to kick them out if they brought that "poor little thing" into that "death-trap". But for others, it represented more of a challenge than an impossibility. 

Two things were set in stone:

Firstly, John Watson was moving back to Baker Street. That was the easy and actually doable part of the two. John belonged to Baker Street as fishes do to the water, as gardenias to the bouquets. He fit right next to Sherlock in that kaleidoscopic visualisation of domesticity. 

The second part was trickier. It was an undeniable truth that after the departure of his beloved wife, John was left with a child to raise on his own. And a child in Baker Street was a truly twisted concept.  

But when had a twisted concept, or the vision of an impossible thing ever stopped Sherlock Holmes? Even if it pained him more than anything to throw out his experiments (which included replacing the whole fridge, microwave and the oven for that matter) and basically child proof the whole flat (what in practice was mainly making the flat  habitable by a human being again) he did it all for Rosie and John. 

Lestrade even brought in six police dogs to check for traces of drugs and dangerous chemicals. It went as well as it could be expected given it was Sherlock's belongings they were searching. At the end of the day he was insisting on throwing out the entire bomb squad that was currently getting rid of the remaining putty explosives, and keeping all the dogs. 

They moved most of the furniture in John's room in order to fit in, a crib and a changing table that could be folded to the wall. Sherlock had even gone wallpaper shopping, so the old room wouldn't seem so gloomy anymore. With Molly, they picked a beautiful baby blue wallpaper with ravens on it. Sherlock knew John was going to hate it, so he just redid one wall. One corner of the room was now a nursery and the other still belonged to the strict army doctor. The contrast couldn't be bigger. 

By the end of the makeover, Baker Street was a mess. Burned walls were hand painted, so there were long strokes of uneven colour now on most of the walls. Bullet were extracted from the walls and covered. Sherlock even bought a safe for his gun, even if he honestly hated it. 

But in the end, when John finally came over after weeks that Sherlock kept kicking him out before he could take a step over the threshold, the look on his face said it all. 

A couple of genuine emotions flowed through John Watson's face when he first saw the new flat. The first was wonder, which Sherlock could identify easily. John marvelled in all the work Sherlock had put into this little project of his.

The second emotion was disbelief. It clearly showed in John's eyes and his slightly parted lips when he turned his head towards Sherlock with questions in his eyes. 

There was also a genuine sense of gratitude and happiness that he could return to Baker Street now. Because John Watson knew he belonged to Baker Street, he always had.

When John opened the doors to his room, there was also disgust on his face. It showed with hard lines on his forehead and between his eyes. His look softened after he noticed the giant stuffed elephant Sherlock had bought for Rosie just this morning. Something about it reminded him of John and he just had to have it. 

But the whole time, as John wandered through their new home, going from room to room (except Sherlock's, that one was still strictly off limits without asking first for John, and Sherlock couldn't figure out why) there was another emotion in his face that Sherlock couldn't decipher. And it bothered him, because he couldn’t understand if it was a bad or a good feeling that which was building inside John. 

After a moment of careful observation he concluded that the emotion must be somewhat positive, since the corners of John's mouth kept jumping upwards from time to time. 

John being done with inspecting every possible corner while wearing Rosie in a sling on his front and sweetly explaining to her in his baby voice, the use of various furniture and appliances in their house, he finally settled into his chair right opposite Sherlock. 

"So... you like it." It wasn't a question. 

"God, Sherlock... I don't know what to say!" John was slightly overcome with emotions, rocking baby Rosie on his lap. 

"Just go unpack your suitcase and move back in, please." Sherlock didn't mean for it to sound so pathetic, but it did. He wasn’t ashamed of it.

"I need to take Rosie for a walk. She needs to be put to bed soon and without fresh air she will hardly sleep. Christ, Sherlock you even bought a crib!"

"Is that the improper sleeping place for a baby? Molly said it was fine.  If you don't like it and would prefer something else, we can still return it."

"No, it's more than fine Sherlock, it's fantastic! And the new kitchen. Although it's true you ruined the old one by setting it on fire multiple times..." John was just smiling now, overcome with astonishment and happiness. Sherlock boomed inside with pride. 

"You have a baby John. I will refrain from doing experiments inside the flat now. Already moved most of the equipment into the morgue or to one of Mycroft's secret labs. I want you and Rosie safe." For Sherlock, that statement was more than basic decency not to bring biohazard into the flat with a baby present. It was a promise into all the possible futures to come. 

John just covered his face with his hand, rubbing it against his forehead. 

"Now give me the baby and go unpack. I think I'm capable of taking her out for a short walk."

John stiffened on the chair, automatically placing one hand on Rosie’s back, as if he felt the need to protect her. Sherlock frowned at that gesture. Didn't he trust him at all?

"Are you sure you can do this on your own?" John asked, slowly reaching behind his neck to undo the sling Rose was wrapped in. 

"I will take the buggy and we will not go far. Just up the street and to Regent's park. You can come after unpacking if we are not back yet."

John considered the proposition for a moment, deliberately looking out the windows, scanning the weather. It was sunny now, but they did live in England, the weather could change in the blink of an eye. 

"Okay then," he sighed at last. He helped Sherlock dress Rosie into her bunny suit and showed him how to manage the buggy and strap her in. As if Sherlock couldn't deduce that one on his own, thank you very much. But John seemed incredibly fussy around the baby and Sherlock was not really surprised considering the trauma he had been through.

At last, after a stream of information, they were ready to go. John strapped Rosie in and opened the door for them, standing there for a long time after Sherlock had started to walk up the street towards the park. 

Sherlock turned a couple of times to wave at him, showing him that it was all fine and he could go to unpack and make himself at home again. Because even if he would never admit it out loud, Sherlock needed John’s things around the house, to remind him he was still there, that he hadn't left him, even after he had a baby and a family. 

They walked slowly up Baker Street. It was full of people and Sherlock silently observed them, playing deductions in his mind. A lot of young women turned upon seeing him and Rosie, happily fussing in her adorable bunny costume. She was a very calm and content child, only making noises at exciting things as they went. Sherlock kept explaining things to her in the softest tone he can muster. He kept repeating things like: "Yes, that is indeed a dog Rosie, good catch!" when she cooed and stretched her fingers toward an adorable Labrador patiently walking by beside their master. 

"You are an observant little girl, aren't you?" He kept talking, as they neared the park, Rosie got more excited by the people and noises around them. The park was full of people hanging around since the weather was rather good. Younger visitors were playing sports or casually sitting around in groups on the grass. The older ones were strolling around, walking and talking. There were a couple of young mothers with strollers by the children playground, so Sherlock walked around them a bit faster that he normally would. 

He was keeping on the verge of the park in case John would look for him, just strolling up and down, occasionally showing Rosie a squirrel or a duck passing by. 

When a young woman approached them after a while, Sherlock's first instinct is to run. Then he noticed her buggy with a slightly older boy and the way her clothes are covered in sand and baby spit, that didn't really wash out. He had categorized her as harmless by the time she opened her mouth to speak. 

"Hi, you must be new here, I'm Joyce, one of the local parents that frequent this park. And this is Timothy. " She stretched her long thin hand towards him after gesturing towards what must be her son by the shape of his ears and chin. Her manicure was a little shabby and in need of another appointment. She had a dusty yellow baby bag across her torso, similar to the one Sherlock was wearing right then. 

"Sherlock Holmes," he answered, taking her hand and shaking it.  She knitted her eyebrows at the sound of his name. Sherlock automatically disliked her. 

"That's a rather... unusual name. And what's this little sweetie called?" Her voice going up an octave as she leant towards Rosie. 

"Rosamunde. But at home we mostly call her Rosie."

She also made a face at Rosie’s full name. 

"Rosie is a beautiful name," she continued, "Is your wife around? We love meeting new people!"

"Oh I don't have a wife," Sherlock simply stated. 

"Single father then? Wonderful, we don't have one of these yet in our little club!" She vaguely gestured towards the children playground area. By the way she kept referring to the people there, Sherlock was getting a sense that she was talking about a cult rather than a parent group. But the assumption she made that Sherlock is Rosie's father left a warm melting feeling inside him. It threw him off balance so much, that he forgot to protest. 

"I must bring you in immediately. The other will love to meet you as well!" And with those words she grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the group of people sitting in various positions indicating their boredom, talking among themselves and occasionally glancing towards their kids running around the playground, screaming.

"We have a newcomer today, ladies and gentlemen. This is Sherlock and Rosie!" Joyce announced as if she had just found a prized possession she was looking for. 

It was mostly women that turned their heads towards him. There were two guys, but they were not paying him much attention (they were too busy scolding their kids for eating sand and playing with grass and staining their shirts). 

Joyce was delighted with the group’s reaction by the look of it. She firmly made him sit on the bench, securing her buggy beside them. 

"So Sherlock, tell me more about yourself. Are you from here or just visiting?" She was picking up at her manicure and rocking the stroller with her foot. The child didn't seem to mind. 

Sherlock gently took Rosie from her buggy and sit her on his knees, wondering if he should try to be civil with this woman or rather make a run for it. He settled for trying to maintain a conversation since it could be good for Rosie's potential social circle to make acquaintances with other parents in the area. Or so was said in one of those parenting books he took up on reading while reconstructing the house. 

"From Baker Street actually. We just moved Rosie in."

"That’s wonderful. We live in the area as well. Me and my two sons. That's Jonathan up there," she points to an older boy climbing an obstacle course. He has her nose and eyes, poor thing.

"No partner then?" He asked, and by the shine in her eyes it was the wrong thing to say. 

"None. Divorced. It's been a year."

She didn't seem to mind. She said it almost with delight. Going by the make-up she was wearing and her slightly curled hair (already flagging a bit) she was ready to get back in the dating pool. 

"What about Rosie’s mother?" She asked and Sherlock clutched the baby closer to him. 

"Died."

"Oh my, I'm so sorry!" Joyce exclaimed, but, in contradiction to her words, she put a hand on Sherlock’s thigh as if in comfort. Her intentions, however, were clear. 

"Was it recent?" She asked with faked sympathy in her voice. 

"We've gotten over it now I think," Sherlock responded truthfully, thinking about how John was smiling so much more now. Sherlock smiled himself remembering John's reaction to the nursery. 

"So glad you were able to overcome such a tragedy!" Her hand was still on Sherlock's thigh. He was feeling rather uncomfortable. Several parents were now glancing towards them. 

"A tragedy it was," he sayd, a bit of irony in his voice. Mary Watson’s death, would always be his most terrible achievement. 

"You seem so strong about it. When my husband left me I didn't think I could move on."

And yet you did, Sherlock thought glancing between both of her sons spotting one difference after another. 

"Sherlock!"

Saved by the bell, he thought upon hearing the familiar voice. He was about to say something incredibly mean.

John was walking towards them, taking Rosie from his arms and nuzzling his nose on her cheeks.

"Have you been a good girl? Did you get Sherlock in any trouble? God knows you could sometimes, he deserves it!"

Sherlock just grinned at the affectionate tone in John’s voice.

"Calm as a cucumber. Didn't even peep. Although I have no idea how cucumbers are calm, since they are not sentient. Linguistic’s really taken a wrong turn there."

John just grinned, turning towards Joyce now. 

"Excuse him please, he sometimes loses track of his own thoughts and forgets what common decency is. I’m John and this is my daughter Rosie" John stretched his free hand in front of him. 

"Oh!" Joyce seemed taken aback by the whole situation for a moment, glancing from John to Sherlock and back. She made an assumption and her cheeks turned pink. Sherlock just snickered.

"I'm Joyce. I was just telling Sherlock how much we love to meet new young parents here in the park." They shook hands.

"That’s wonderful! Rosie will need her own social circle soon. Don't know how much time we both will have, with our work and so on, but Iìll always make sure that there's somebody who can take Rosie up to the park."

Joyce just nodded, still seemingly embarrassed. John made them all exchange numbers before leaving. By the time they were done with spelling their names and making sure they all had the needed information, Rosie got a bit fussy.

“We should go put her to bed soon. It was nice to meet you Joyce.” John shook hands with her one more time. Sherlock just nodded at her, taking the parked buggy and following John out of the park.

“That lovely lady was very into you,” John noted when they strolled down the street to their flat.

“And you didn’t make much unpacking by the state of your clothes and the time you appeared in the park. Don’t you trust me, John?”

“Honestly, I don’t even trust myself with the baby. Still waiting for the moment I make some terrible mistake.”

Sherlock just shook his head: “You are a wonderful parent, John.”

It was a compliment John didn’t expect. He clutched Rosie tighter.

“She was rather pretty.” He stated instead.

“Pretty annoying. You arrived just in time. Although she might be under the impression that we are a couple now,” Sherlock said gloomily.

“Indeed,” John just grimaced, slowly rocking Rosie to sleep.

“You don’t seem to mind this time.”

“People are always talking, Sherlock. If this gets Rosie to the good local crowd, I’m ready to pose even as Queen of England from now on. It’s important to get her in a strong social circle from her early age.”

“Seems like we’ve been reading the same book,” Sherlock sneered.

“What?!” John looks at him in confusion.

“What?” Sherlock just smirked toward him.

John just shook his head. They were at their entryway now and Sherlock unlocked the door, letting John in with the baby so he could put her into her crib. Sherlock folded the buggy and slid it beside the stairs. It fit right in.

They made it up the stairs to put Rosie to sleep in her new crib. Sherlock gently rocked her, while John read her a bedtime story.  Halfway through ‘The Little Red Riding Hood’ she was already fast asleep and John closed the door to his room, leaving all his luggage upstairs for later.

They made tea and sat at the kitchen table. Sherlock thinking about how being mistaken for Rosie’s father had made him feel all mushy inside. It all felt kind of right.


End file.
